Writing The Tides

Hiraeth (n.)

He had spent the last two days sleeping to avoid his problems, completely obliterating his hidden snack stash, spending way too much time on Youtube, and writing.

So much writing.

Keith always felt like a different person when he wrote. He felt unstoppable. Writing wasn't like real life- there wasn't just one ending.

When he wrote, his life wasn't defined by page numbers, or word count. When he wrote, Keith wasn't just writing.

He was evolving.

And he loved that.

Keith hadn't written for himself in a long time.

For a while, although he denied it, he thought that maybe he was done. Maybe he had no words left. It was terrifying, thinking he had nothing left to say. Nothing left to give.

Being so young, and just burnt out.

Lance relit him.

And Keith wonders if he really, truly loved Lance. Or maybe he just loved the effect Lance had on him.

It absolutely terrified him. That these feelings may not have come from what was there, but perhaps from something that wasn't. Maybe Keith was just too willing to fall in love, after being lonely for so long, and he didn't even know what love was. Maybe Lance was just another chapter in his life. Maybe they didn't love each other at all. They just loved the idea that they could.

Maybe he just loved the fact that with Lance, he didn't have to think of words. They erupted spontaneously, naturally, much like Lance himself.

Lance had all of them, and he didn't even know it. It was like passion was a disease, that Keith prayed was contagious.

But passion was fatal.

And right now Keith was trying to cure himself of tan skin and blue eyes, and what better way to do that than by pouring himself into his work? He had written approximately 26,756 words, and was it unhealthy? Probably. Was he gonna stop? Ha, no.

Keith writes about worries, he writes about fear, he writes about doubt, and he certainly does not write about love.

Because maybe he did love Lance. Maybe just a little. But he sure as hell wasn't going to let those feelings corrupt him.

He'd already been corrupted by his heart once.

He sure as hell wasn't going to let it happen again.

This chapter, Keith decided, was over.

---

His relationship with Lance may have been over, but his eight a.m. creative writing classes sure weren't. And for someone who legitimately spent his entire weekend sleeping and crying into an empty bowl of fruit loops, Keith sure was tired. So maybe he did doze off just a bit in class, and maybe he was super ready to drop out, but for some reason he was still there, a ghost amidst a lack of vacancy, and his surroundings were so vivid that suddenly, they weren't. It was almost as he was inside looking out, just another spectator in a world that didn't notice he was gone.

But he wasn't. People do notice.

Keith was still learning that there are few people in the world that are truly apathetic. His family cared, his friends cared- just as much as he did. And it was difficult for him to shut them off, just as difficult as it was for them to let him go. People care, and sometimes they are so shrouded with fear that it's hard to see. But it's there. Hidden under forests of doubt and flowers grown upon pain, everyone has a heart. And everyone has love planted within them, itching to grow out.